


In Time

by CynicalRainbows



Category: Six - Marlow/Moss
Genre: Angst, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:00:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22979524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CynicalRainbows/pseuds/CynicalRainbows
Summary: Maria thinks she should have done more to help Bessie in their old life.Bessie disagrees.Angst and fluff ensues.
Kudos: 29





	In Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deepestfathoms](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deepestfathoms/gifts).



Her pillow is soaked and she’s too hot under the duvet but she can’t bring herself to move. The duvet is muffling everything after all- if she pushes it back, then she opens up the possibility to the others hearing her, of asking her what’s wrong (of hearing her pathetic explanation, of judging her, rightly, as a spineless, heartless, selfish coward.)

She freezes when the door creaks open.

_ Perhaps it’s just Joan coming to see if she wants dinner, perhaps it’s just Maggie coming to borrow something. _

If she pretends to be asleep- if she stays still and quiet- they’ll go away, they’ll go away….but her nose is running, she can’t help it, she sniffs, she betrays herself- and the someone pads across the room and the mattress dips as they sit down.

‘Maria?’

She especially doesn’t want to have to explain herself to Bessie, so she just lies there- even if Bessie doesn’t believe she’s asleep, she can scarcely drag her from the bed, can she?

(Can she?)

‘Are you alright?’

If she doesn’t move, she doesn’t have to explain- and even though it makes her even more disgusted with herself. She should be begging Bessie’s forgiveness, she should be apologising unreservedly, she should be looking for ways to make amends- not lying under the covers, sodden with guilt and tears. She’s not sure what’s worse- the fact that, in realising the extent of her failure to protect Bessie, she’s wallowing like only a truly terrible person would...or the fact that it’s taken her so long to properly think about the situation at all.

A sob escapes her and she immediately bites her tongue to hold it back- but it’s too late.

‘Maria? What’s the matter?’

Bessie’s voice is so very gentle, as if she actually deserves concern rather than condemnation, and it’s...strange. Now that she knows herself to be a terrible person, she feels that everyone else- Bessie included, Bessie especially- should know it too.

‘Talk to me, sweetheart. Are you sick?’

It sounds odd, as it always does, to hear Bessie refer to her with a pet name- their whole dynamic has been reversed. 

Now Bessie is the one everyone looks to for direction, the one who stays calmest in a crisis, the one who stands up to people without looking afraid, the one who took charge and corralled all of them, queens included, into some sort of order during the first few terrifying days and weeks. 

She’s good at it, but it’s still odd for her.

Perhaps it’s for the best though- she managed to utterly fail at caretaking, when she was the one Bessie was relying on.

The thought has her screwing up her face to hold back a wail of despair, and Bessie most notice the change because she leans closer, gently folding back a corner of the duvet.

‘What ever’s the matter? What can I do?’

She remembers asking the same question, or a variation of it, of Bessie, a lifetime ago:  _ what’s wrong, what’s the matter, what do you need? _

She wonders what the point of asking at all was, given that she failed to provide the escape, the protection that would have been of more use than a hundred new gowns, than a thousand new lutes.

‘I’m so sorry-’

It almost chokes her, the inadequacy of it, but Bessie just looks perplexed.

‘What? Why?’

She doesn’t know where to begin- how do you apologise for something so huge? 

‘I’m-’ Her face contorts with another sob and Bessie puts her hand to her hair, smoothing it back.

(She remembers doing the same, once.)

Her touch is nice but so undeserved.

‘It’s ok- you’re allowed to be….ill or sad or whatever this is. You don’t need to apologise-’

‘Not this.’ She raises a tearstained face, wishing they weren’t having this conversation here: it isn’t right, it isn’t what Bessie deserves. ‘I’m sorry for- back then.’

There’s a pause and Bessie takes the tiniest step back, her very posture draws in on itself like she’s shielding herself from the memories that might threaten to suck her under.

‘Oh.’

‘I just…’ She knows it won’t come out right but she has to try. ‘I’ve just been thinking- lately. About back then, about what happened to you.’ She’d like to say what Henry did to her but it wouldn’t be true- it’s not just Henry who was at fault. ‘About how we….dealt with it.’ Bessie just looks at her, she seizes her hand, suddenly sitting up properly. ‘Bessie- I know nothing i can say will make up for it all and….oh god, you should hate me, you should hate all of us… I’m just so sorry, I’m so sorry we failed you, I’m so sorry I failed you, I’m sorry I let it happen-’ She can feel her breaths coming faster- she’s having to rush to explain, there isn’t time to say all she wants to say before Bessie says something, she knows. ‘I wish I could take it all back, I’d do it all again- you deserved so much better-’

‘Ok.’ Bessie’s hands come up to rest on her shoulders, holding her up even as she curls in on herself with guilt. ‘Ok-’

(How can it be ok?)

‘Ok, you need to try to slow down for me, alright? Try and take a deep breath-’

She doesn’t understand why this is what Bessie is focusing on- what does it matter that her throat is closing up, what does it matter that her chest is aching? It’s the least she deserves, surely, and she’s willing to take the pain (it’s nothing compared to what Bessie experienced but there’s a rightness to her feeling it, all the same) but Bessie keeps her upright, keeps urging her to breathe as if it matters- and eventually, she gives in.

‘That’s good- and another one- That’s very good-’

The black spots recede from her vision; Bessie lets go of her shoulders. (She still wants to claw out her stomach for guilt though.)

‘Well done.’

‘I’m sorry-’ It’s so insubstantial but she can’t not apologise for making everything about her, ruining things again. ‘You shouldn’t….worry about me though. You-’ It’s hard to say it but she must: if Bessie isn’t understanding, she has to explain it. ‘You should be angry with me. You  _ must _ be angry with me. I-’ She forces herself to keep her voice steasy. ‘I failed you. I’m only just realising how much but- I did.’

‘What’s….brought all this on?’ The tone is very neutral, very careful. 

‘It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while-’ She attempts a casual shrug but coming so soon on the heels of her almost-breakdown, with tears still on her cheeks, she isn’t sure how effective it is. ‘I just… Oh god Bessie, I don’t know how to make things right with you but I have to try….. I know I don’t deserve...forgiveness or anything, but YOU deserve to….to have it out with me, at least. For your sake.’

Bessie is looking at her, her expression unreadable. Eventually, she blinks.

‘I’m….not angry with you, though? Sorry- just, this….it’s all quite a lot at once, to take in…..’

Bessie’s confusion makes her feel like an idiot. Of course she shouldn’t have confronted the poor girl- the poor woman- with a barrage of memories that Bessie probably makes herself keep in check most of the time- of course she should have explained things first, checked to see if it was a good time before bringing it all up.

(She pushes away the thought that she hadn’t wanted to bring anything up, that she’d only answered Bessie’s questions, that she’d done her best to hide herself away so as not to impose.

She still should have done better. 

Why didn’t she bring things up more tactfully?)

(Because she’s selfish. That’s why. She knows it.)

Bessie is shaking her head, like she’s drawing herself into the right mindset for the conversation: brushing away the what-to-make-for-dinner-what-time-is-it-does-my-bass-need-tuning? thoughts and readying herself for Serious Discussion. 

‘I mean- I’m angry that it happened-’ (She is so glad that Bessie at least acknowledges that Something happened.) ‘I’m angry that it happened at all but…. My god, Maria, it wasn’t your fault! It was nothing to do with you!’

It’s like she is suddenly really, properly connecting the hysterics of the past five minutes with the conversation they’re having; she grows more earnest with every syllable. 

‘You had nothing- nothing- to do with any of it, why would you blame yourself, why would you ever think to-’

‘Because I didn't stop it!’ It bursts out of her, almost angrily- but it’s herself she’s angry at, not Bessie. ‘I should have stopped it, I should have known what was going on some how-’

‘How?’

‘Somehow!’ Her eyes sting, the tears are back. ‘I was meant to take care of you- I wanted to take care of you-’

‘You did-’

‘Not properly-,’ She grips her hands in her hair. ‘Not in a way that mattered, I should have, I should have-’

‘Should have what?’ Bessie’s voice is so very calm, so very level. She gently detaches Maria’s clutching hands and holds them tightly in her own. ‘What should you have done?’

‘Stopped him-’

‘Stopped him? How?’

She doesn’t know why Bessie is asking this now- isn’t it enough that she failed to do so?

‘I should have- talked to him-’

‘And he’d….what, have listened to you?’

She opens her mouth and then closes it- when Bessie says it, it somehow sounds...foolish. Unrealistic.

‘Well-’

‘He didn't listen to his councilors, his friends….but he’d have listened to you?’

‘I could have tried-’

‘When? When did you ever get a chance to talk privately to him, to the King?’

‘I did see him though-’

‘You would have brought it up in public? In front of the ladies, Catalina, his attendants? And not just brought it up- chastised him in public?’

She shakes her head, conceding, but presses on. ‘I could have taken you away though-’

‘From court?’

She nods. ‘Yes. I should have tried, at least-’

‘You’d have had to fight me first. And I can promise you, I would NOT have made it easy. Court was home since I was eleven, I never wanted to leave it- even then.’

‘But still- to make it stop-’ She’s struggling, she’s not a position to tell Bessie she’s wrong when it comes to her own feelings but-

‘I wanted it to stop but I still wouldn’t have left.’ Bessie dismisses the idea with a wave of the hand. ‘And that’s to say nothing of my parents- as if they would let me give up such a prestigious place! Don’t you remember the lengths people went to get their daughters places? The bribes and the favours and the blackmailing, if there was anything to blackmail with-’

When Bessie says it, it brings it back more clearly- the stew of intrigues and complex alliances, the strategy and the planning and scheming. Something to fight to enter, something impossible to leave behind.

For the first time, she feels a little twinge of doubt…. Would it have been as easy as she’d convinced herself it would be?

‘And where would we have gone?’ Bessie presses on. ‘Do you really think he’d have allowed Catalina to keep supporting you if you not only left but took away his favourite plaything? Do you really think anyone would have risked angering him by taking us in for nothing?’

She shakes her head. ‘No, I suppose-’

‘So where would we have gone?’

‘I- I don’t know-’

‘So you’d have taken me- unwilling, from court, to starve in the streets?’

‘Even women can….support themselves- could support themselves, even back then-’

‘With all the useful skills we’d learnt?’ Bessie scoffs. ‘Still- could have made money on our backs, I suppose. Probably we’d have ended up at Southwark- would the pox be a good reward for leaving, do you think?’

‘Stop it-’ She doesn’t want to think of it, but she’s too quiet- Bessie presses on.

‘Would I have thanked you? Would anyone have thanked you?’

‘Stop-’ Louder this time.

‘Do you really think it would have been a good plan?

‘No-’

‘Sure?’ Bessie’s voice is almost taunting, on the edge of cruel; when did she learn to sound like that? ‘Because it sounded so very possible-’

‘NO!’ It bursts from her, the anguish gripping her chest again. ‘No, no it wouldn’t have worked, I know it wouldn’t have worked, it-’ She chokes on a sob at her own uselessness. ‘It never would have-’

‘Then why are you punishing yourself for not doing it?’ Bessie’s voice is suddenly back to normal- no, softer, gentler than normal. The change takes her aback; she’s frozen, tears that she can’t blink back running down her cheeks. Her heart is beating hard as if she’s been running.

Running- as she should have run with Bessie. Although- as Bessie pointed out- where? Had there really been any viable escape for them or were they as trapped as each other?

It’s funny how the idea of their mutual helplessness actually makes her feel different. Lighter, she realises. Lighter than she felt before.

Slowly, giving her time to pull away if she wants to, Bessie reaches out and draws her into her arms. She doesn’t want to- she doesn’t deserve it, she doesn’t deserve comfort, she’s sure she doesn’t- but she’s also so mixed up and sad and wearied from everything that in spite of herself, she finds that she’s leaning into them gratefully.

They’re warm; she’s shivering- not with cold, but the warmth still feels good.

‘There was nothing you could have done, sweetheart. Nothing at all. It wasn’t your fault.’ Bessie holds her tight against her chest, murmuring into the whorls of her ear. ‘I never blamed you, you know? Not for a minute, not for a second. Never.’ Her breath tickles. ‘You’ve been so very hard on yourself, but there’s no need. No need at all.’

She draws deep, shakey breaths against Bessie’s neck and squeezes her eyes shut.

‘I’m so sorry.’

‘I know. But you don’t need to be.’

‘All that you went through though-’ She can’t allow herself to be blameless, not this easily.’You were thirteen, what happened was awful-’

‘I know.’ One of Bessie’s hands smooths her tumbled curls. ‘It was, and it shouldn’t have happened. But it did. And not because of anything you did or I did, or anything we didn’t do.’ She pauses. ‘I won’t pretend it’s easy but…..I’m working through it. It’s getting easier. I think.’

‘I’m glad.’ Her voice is very small but she knows Bessie has heard; she feels herself being held more tightly.

There’s a silence, which Bessie eventually breaks.

‘You know… I don’t think I ever really said thank you to you. To you and Catalina.’

‘For what?’

‘For taking care of me. Back then. For looking out for me.’

‘Of course we-’

She wants to say that of course they did, how could they have not, how could anyone have thought it right to leave an eleven year old to their own devices, even at Court (especially at court).... But then it occurs to her that people DID do that. And not just people- Bessie’s own parents.

It’s as if she’s read her mind. ‘It was obvious for you and Catalina- not so much for everyone else.’ Bessie’s hand stills, cupping the back of her head. ‘I count myself so very lucky that I was able to know you back then. Without you both-’

She doesn’t continue but Maria understands.

‘You took such care of me-’

‘I’m sorry that I’m not…..really keeping it up-’

She feels awkward saying it- it’s the first time any of them have really addressed the fact that their ages are all….wildly different to what they were expecting. 

She wouldn’t blame Bessie for finding it disconcerting, even to the point of wanting to distance herself- it honestly surprises her a little every day that no one has suggested breaking up the little household they’ve made and striking out on their own. 

Not that she wants to, just….she’s determined not to mind too much if the others do. Especially Bessie- after all, what use can she be to her now, now that she’s so much younger, now that Bessie seems to have so much more of a handle on everything than the rest of them?

(Even if she genuinely isn’t angry with her for….past events, she surely wouldn’t be upset at the chance to jettison the unexpected burden that her previous-life mentor has become.)

‘I’m not.’

It surprises her- she pulls away for a moment, and feels rather than hears Bessie’s chuckle as she’s gently pulled back into the embrace. ‘I mean, given the circumstances…. honestly, I think it’s just a chance for me to repay you a bit, isn’t it?’

She….honestly hadn’t thought about it like that before.

Bessie goes back to stroking her hair and it feels wonderful- or perhaps it’s just that it’s so very soothing to feel an affectionate touch after the hours of preparing herself for anger and accusations and blame and eventual abandonment.

She presses closer, burrows more deeply in the warm arms encircling her- she has the very faintest idea that she could fall asleep like this, she feels so very safe and cozy- and then feels a flash of embarrassment. 

She’s not a child, after all- she wonders if she should pull away (even though she really doesn’t want to) but before she can, Bessie tightens her hold.

(It occurs to her that if anyone were to try to pull her away, it would be very difficult to do so. The thought is surprisingly pleasing.)

‘I’ve got you, sweetheart. It’s all going to be alright, you’ll see.’

It still sounds a little odd to hear the term of endearment… but it’s a nice odd. 

As she feels her eyelids grow ever so slightly heavier, she wonders if perhaps she might even get used to it.

In time.


End file.
